


How to Not Get Eaten by Your Best Friend

by Doceo_Percepto



Series: Bendy's Murderous Adventure Across Moominvalley [18]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine, Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Animal Death, Bad Soup, Casual Sex, Lazy and Bendy's bromance, Nest Shenanigans, Other, Possessiveness, Winter, and his typical psychological trauma, the noncon warning is only for Happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-27 23:54:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16229909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doceo_Percepto/pseuds/Doceo_Percepto
Summary: All friendships encounter difficulties. Some have to be navigated more delicately than others.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place shortly after Happy Hunting. Both series list all the stories in chronological order but I feel this is sometimes confusing to keep track of when I fail to actually write and post them in chronological order.
> 
> Almost every activity in this story is the thought child of Spoopy and I. Many thanks to Spoopy for being a sick-minded enabler.

The Joxter considered himself very fortunate to be the best of friends with Bendy.

On the surface the two of them looked quite different, him being a Joxter, and Bendy being, well, an ink demon. But where it really counted, they agreed on all the right things, such as just how much one ought to abuse a Snufkin (to death was the right answer, of course).

There had been some minor disagreements, as any friendship would have over the years: the most frequent disagreement was over whether a given individual (normally one already a little bit maimed) was a Snufkin or a Joxter, wherein Bendy typically argued _Snufkin_ , and the Joxter typically argued _Joxter_. But the Joxter liked to think that when those situations arose, the two of them formed healthy compromises (which in that case, most often entailed the Joxter agreeing _yes, my apologies, it_ is _a Snufkin, naturally_ ).

But the Joxter had to admit something had been wrong lately.

Something that made Bendy sometimes leave the nest abruptly; something that, on occasion, replaced Bendy’s cheeriness with moodiness; something that gathered tension thick in the air.

Trouble was, the Joxter did not know what that something was.

It made him very uneasy, if he cared to think about it, but he preferred not to. Around Bendy, it was generally best not to linger on feelings such as uneasiness or dread. Prey felt those sorts of things, and the Joxter was not prey. Quite the opposite.

Luckily, it was deep in winter. That meant he spent most of his time curled peacefully in the canoe, hibernating through the cold weather. Sleeping was best for his health right now, anyhow, because the last Snufkin they’d captured had the nerve to strangle him, and though that was a good few weeks ago, he’d not quite recovered: he kept spitting up blood, and there was still some bruising around his throat.

So he whiled away most hours napping, and Bendy and Happy, unfathomable enough to _enjoy_ activity in winter, brought him food and water, and entertained themselves off on their own.

Of course, there were occasional interruptions.

“Hey, Jox. Jox. Joxter, hey-“

“Papa, we found a new game-“

“Jox, Joxter-“

A very cold hand whapped the Joxter’s face; he responded with an insulted whine, and squinted one eye open.

Bendy sat on the canoe edge, a couple oranges in his hands, while Happy stood beside him. The two were grinning, as they almost always were.

“Darling, I’m trying to sleep.”

“Okay, but watch – watch this-“ There was really no point in trying to shoo him off. Yawning, the Joxter sat up. Perhaps it was all right to be awake. There was a tingly warmth deep in his belly. It would be nice to sheath himself in Happy’s warm cunt, whenever they finished their game.

“Happy an’ I found an orange tree, ‘xcept he couldn't climb it, so I went up to throw some down for him, and I forgot that – well-“ giggling, Bendy turned to Happy. “Go sit.”

Happy immediately shot roughly ten feet away and plopped his butt in the snow, looking fixedly in another direction.

“Um,” the Joxter began.

“Watch, watch. Happy. Hey, Happy! Catch!” Bendy lobbed an orange at Happy. Happy entirely failed to respond. The orange bounced stupidly off his head, and only then did Happy yelp and throw his arms up to protect himself.

At first, the Joxter did not understand the game. And then it came in slowly. “Ah, I see. He’s got the wrong ear facing us.”

“Yup!”

Happy peered toward the canoe. Bendy communicated through a series of gestures for Happy to look forward again.

“Bendy,” Happy whined; Bendy pointed firmly, and he obeyed. He was a delightfully compliant Snufkin, the tamest the Joxter had ever seen.

“Your turn,” Bendy handed him an orange.

The Joxter sighed and turned it over in his paws. “These would be better to eat.”

“They taste like poop. C’mon, Joxter, this game is hilarious.”

“Happy,” he called out. The beautiful mess of a Snufkin did not respond, of course. He was entirely deaf in his right ear and had just the worst difficulties hearing anything on that side. But the Joxter called out again anyway, because it amused Bendy, and there was nothing wrong with enjoying the simple things in life. “Happy, I’m going to throw you an orange, dear. Are you ready?”

Bendy giggled, and the Joxter couldn't help the half-smile that lilted at his lips. It could indeed be frustrating when he was trying to speak to Happy and the Snufkin failed to hear. How pleasant for Bendy to put a positive, fun spin on this sort of situation. “Happy,” the Joxter voiced again, louder this time. “I’ll give you three seconds, now. Three… two… one…” Still Happy did not look. “Well,” the Joxter commented to Bendy, “You can’t say I didn’t give him ample warning, hmm?”

The orange nailed Happy hard right in the arm; Happy yelped and whipped around.

“I gave you plenty of notice, dear,” the Joxter reminded loudly, while Bendy fell off the canoe laughing.

“Hey Jox,” he said upside down, “how many times ya think we can get him to sit still and pelt him with oranges before he refuses? Ya think he _would_ refuse?” Bendy’s expression turned devious. “Betcha he wouldn't.”

“Indeed not. However, you’d give him brain damage that way.”

“Aw, really?” A pause. “Wait, how many oranges does it take for that, ‘cause I already hit him in the head ‘bout ten times-”

“He should have a break,” the Joxter decided, tutting. “Why don’t you bring him into the nest? It gets chilly without him.” A warm Snufkin was just what he needed to drift back to sleep. And of course, Happy would nicely relieve the ache between his legs, which often cropped up whenever he woke up.

The Joxter’s paw slipped into his clothes and kneaded, his thoughts rich with anticipation, when he realized Bendy hadn’t replied. The Joxter peered over the canoe edge. Bendy had turned himself upright. The black mask over his brow was furrowed low. He looked displeased, out of the blue. That was the sort of behavior that had the Joxter nervous lately: sudden silences, surly looks, the likes. On anyone else he may not have been concerned, but given that it was Bendy, well, he worried.

“Bendy, darling?” he prompted.

“Sure thing.” Bendy transformed in the next second, and dumped Happy none too gently into the canoe. He was gone before the Joxter could ask what was wrong, which left him frowning out into the snowy woods wondering what he could have possibly done.

“Ow,” Happy groaned. He’d hit his leg on the side of the canoe.

“Hush, now,” The Joxter told him, and Happy flashed one of those pretty smiles. It was delightfully exquisite, having a Snufkin that smiled. The Joxter didn’t often get see those in Snufkins: normally they were such a frowny and screamy bunch – which of course, had its time and place, but every once in a while, he did like one that smiled, and Happy delivered on that beautifully.

The Joxter cast one last look into the woods, but there was no use in worrying any longer. Not a thing could be done about it now. Instead, he dragged Happy closer. In winter, Happy was permitted trousers, but at the Joxter’s prompting, he automatically tugged them off and spread his legs. He was well trained. When the Joxter pushed in, Happy was giggles and smiles all around. What a silly whimsical little Snufkin. But so pliant. The perfect addition to a winter nest. It didn’t take the Joxter long at all.

 

 

He woke up, an indeterminate time later, to find a line of reddish drool connecting his lips to Happy’s shoulder. He coughed, licked his lips, and groaned, rolling over. His fingers rubbed his throat.

“I’m glad you killed Knifey, dear,” he admitted. “No doubt would have made another at-hck!” What a mess, coughing hard enough that his diagram ached. Unpleasant. Knifey had truly been a hideous Snufkin. He should have told Bendy to eat him right away.

“Papa?” Happy touched his shoulder.

The Joxter waved him off. “No need to fuss.”

“Let’s play tag,” came Bendy’s voice from above.

The Joxter looked up to find Bendy curled on a tree branch. There was a moment where their eyes met, and Bendy looked away quickly. Still in a strange mood, then. The Joxter stifled a shiver, and curled beneath his blankets again, this time nudging Happy out. “Go on, love. You had better run fast now.”

“Yes, papa,” he agreed, and the two of them frolicked off.

That cough was particularly persistent now, and anyway, the Joxter felt an uneasiness under his ribcage that he wanted distracting from. Stretching, he wrapped a blanket about his shoulders and clambered out of the canoe. He picked up and peeled one of the oranges Bendy had thrown, which looked mostly undamaged. Despite what Bendy said, it tasted just fine. This wasn’t very surprising, because the Joxter had already deduced everything except blood tasted bland to Bendy. A terribly limited palate, in his opinion, though then again, he’d never been much for excessive blood consumption. Lately, even a lick made him qualmish. Something about always tasting it in the back of his mouth really ruined the appeal.

The Joxter meandered past the berry bushes, which were sparse and frosted with snow. The creek today was flowing low and dark. The icy water stung his throat, but rinsed away any lingering metallic taste.

Next he returned to the nest, and tugged a Snufkin pack towards himself. This was where he had been storing Knifey’s knives. A whole six of them. He’d never met a Snufkin carrying so many weapons before, which was a testament to just how needlessly troublesome that particular Snufkin had been. Yet again, the Joxter was quite glad Happy elected to kill him. And now his knives were available to play with. It took the Joxter some time, mulling over them, to decide what he wanted to do with them, but he had figured it out last time he’d looked at the weapons:

The nest could use a wind chime.

The Joxter had already started wrapping wire around some of the handles, and he set himself to this task again. The plan was to have them dangle nicely, point facing down, and hang them somewhere a safe distance from the canoe, just in case his craftsmanship was below par, or if Bendy should accidentally run into them and send knives flying.

The Joxter was very absorbed in this task, even with the complication of handling wire with numbing fingers, when a shadow fell over him and he looked up.

Happy smiled shyly. “Papa, I got hurt.”

It did seem so. His shirts were torn in several places, and each tear was dark with blood. He looked pale. “ _Happy_ ,” the Joxter chided, exasperated.

“He tagged me,” Happy explained.

“Naturally.” Sighing, the Joxter stuffed the knives and wire back into the designed pack, then went rummaging for medical supplies. “Dear, you need to stop getting hurt, at least until we catch another Snufkin. We’re running low on – well, everything.” Bandages, alcohol, stitches, all of it. Happy was constantly depleting the supply. Very selfish. 

The Joxter tugged out whatever was left, and settled Happy down to treat the wounds. As he did, he glimpsed Bendy reclining at the other end of the clearing, large and dark against the snow. If the Joxter were to be quite honest, he found it just a touch unnerving. Bendy normally chafed against the limited senses and the muteness of his larger form, and rarely hung about casually that way while in the nest.

It didn’t really matter, the Joxter supposed. No need to dwell on it. He treated Happy’s wounds to the best of his ability, and then kissed him for good measure.

Happy’s lips were chapped and dry, but his mouth tasted sweetly of oranges and bitterly of ink. As usual, he was absolutely clueless about how to kiss back, but that wasn’t any trouble at all. The Joxter was not a picky or pretentious individual. Happy had a little clean tongue, and he sat patiently while being used, that was all that mattered.

“Thanks, papa," he murmured when the Joxter broke the kiss.

"I do enjoy tending to you." The Joxter’s arms wrapped lightly around Happy. He was so thin beneath his many layers. Frail, like a wisp. He always felt small in the Joxter’s arms, despite the fact he stood just a touch taller. That sort of willowy body invited harm. Brought to mind sweet images of snapped bones. The Joxter nuzzled his cheek.

Ah, dear. He was starting to get hard again. It hadn’t been all that long since he came last, but this past summer and fall did spoil him, what with raiding a refuge, and having both Bendy and Happy to give him lots of attention.

No reason to deny himself another round today.

“Come back to the canoe, love,” he tugged Happy's paw. As he was clambering into the fluff, he glimpsed a flash of movement across the clearing.

Bendy was gone again. Off on his own.

The Joxter frowned. That niggling unease deepened. But Happy’s paws slipped into his clothes, and he was dreadfully talented. Immensely distracting (the Joxter would like to be distracted, anyhow).

 

 

At some point in the night, the Joxter hazily woke up to the sounds of Happy squeaking and yelping. The Snufkin was no longer in the canoe. The Joxter looked about, and found him.

Happy was laid out like a turtle on his back underneath Bendy, and the demon was screwing him. A bit harder than he normally did, which had the Joxter’s brow furrowing in concern. Happy looked dreadfully small and frail beneath him.

Bendy had only started doing this to Happy recently, but it made the Joxter wonder if he wouldn't end up impaling the poor Snufkin. Of course, the Joxter didn’t entirely mind either way – a Snufkin was a Snufkin, and watching one that he had developed such a bond with getting mauled sounded exciting – but Bendy _would_ mind. The Joxter was especially alarmed now, as Happy normally responded to this treatment with pleasure, but now every jolt brought a sharp wince and cry. He seemed to be clutching Bendy's forelegs for dear life.

“Gentle,” the Joxter reminded from the canoe. “Gentle: he’s very fragile.”

A low, wet snarl was Bendy’s reply; the next thrust had Happy shrieking.

Rude. Very well – the Joxter had tried to do his part, and just got growled at. It wasn’t his fault if Bendy went and killed Happy on accident. Feeling especially huffy, the Joxter dug himself deeper into the fluff of his nest, deep enough that he was nicely padded on each side with cotton, and hidden with blankets.

It was difficult to sleep.

Bendy needed to stop being so temperamental. Prior to a few weeks ago, the Joxter had only rarely earned a growl, and it was most often for him being silly. Now Bendy was going and doing that over some well-meaning advice! 

The Joxter went and got so worked up about it that he couldn't sleep at all, and instead wasted a good amount of time thinking.

When he eventually poked his head out of the canoe to check on the other two residents of the nest, he found Happy asleep with Bendy finally small again, and in his arms. Bendy’s tail lashed left, paused, lashed right, paused, and repeated this over and over again. It seemed like an agitated thing, but the Joxter wasn’t sure.

Ah, all this frustration and fuss. The Joxter despised both those things. He buried himself back in the nest, determined to not waste another second dithering over this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story got too long for one chapter, but there was no natural break in the story so we're just awkwardly chopping it here lul.


	2. Chapter 2

“Joxter?”

“Mgh.”

“Jox.”

The Joxter cracked open sleep-fogged eyes. Hunger was rumbling deep in his belly, and irritation hung at the forefront of his mind. He may have slept a long time. A bubble of blood worked up his throat and popped over his tongue.

Bendy was leaning over the canoe edge, eyes oval. “I made ya some soup.”

There was a pungent smell thick in the Joxter’s nose. Something meaty but not remotely the way food ought to smell.

“Well, Happy helped,” Bendy continued. “I didn’t really know what I was doin’. Never made soup before. Don’t think I paid close enough attention the times you did.” Then, timidly, “I hope it’s all right.”

The Joxter’s eyes roved to the campfire. Happy sat there, poking at the contents of his bowl with the expression of one who has just found a gathering of wriggly maggots.

“What did you make?” the Joxter asked slowly.

“Rabbit soup.” Bendy tugged at the cuffs of his gloves. “’Cause you’ve made it before, an’ I know y’like it.”

Still muddled with sleep, the Joxter heaved himself out of the canoe, and tread to the campfire, upon which was perched their large metal pot. He peered in, already knowing he wasn’t going to like what he found.

The first thing he saw was fur. Short brown fur coagulating at the foamy, bloody surface of the soup. The smell was even worse up close. Half cooked flesh.

“It didn’t turn out the way you make it,” Bendy squeaked. “But I thought, maybe it’d be close enough-“

“Did you throw an entire rabbit in?” the Joxter asked.

Bendy’s big-eyed look would have been comical, if the Joxter was in a different mood. “Was I not supposed to?”

Sighing, the Joxter turned to Happy. “Give me that.”

“Huh?”

The Joxter snatched Happy’s bowl and dumped it back into the soup. “You should know better,” he scolded Happy. “I know you’re incompetent, but you couldn't have told him even one thing about preparing a rabbit for stew?”

Happy shrank in place. “I’m sorry, papa, I just- I forgot-“

The Joxter grabbed the pot handles and heaved it up. Water sloshed. Careful not to spill, the Joxter headed out of the clearing. They needed to dump this, preferably far from the nest. Bendy trotted at his heels.

“I didn’t know-” Bendy started.

“I know. Happy should have told you.”

“I just wanted t’ make ya feel better.”

“I feel fine.”

Bendy was quiet for a moment, looking at the Joxter sideways as if trying to work out whether to follow along or not.

Evidently the demon was in a more amiable mood now, but Joxter was going to get whiplash trying to keep up with whether Bendy arbitrarily was going to be happy or upset at any given moment.

“Sorry ‘bout the soup,” Bendy settled on.

This seemed as good a place as any. Grasping the pot firmly, the Joxter tilted it sideways. A bloody mess spilled out, along with the limp wet body of a bony rabbit. It flopped to the snow, boiled skin oozing off its skeleton. “You’re lucky you can’t smell very well,” the Joxter remarked.

“Hey, Joxter?” Bendy’s thick fingers touched the Joxter’s thigh. “Ya wanna screw?”

Of all the times. “You’re cold as ice in winter.” The Joxter rerouted towards the creek. This pot needed a rinsing.

“I can use my mouth.”

“That’s just as cold as the rest of you.”

Bendy fell silent, and clasped his hands behind his back, deep in thought.

Snow crunched beneath their feet. Crystalline flakes floated down from the sky, twirling in lazy patterns. It was a deep winter this year, but a beautiful one. The Joxter found it had an inevitable soothing effect, and he was grateful to feel calmer once they reached the creek.

“I can wash it for ya,” Bendy offered, holding out his hands and wiggling his fingers.

“If you like.” The Joxter handed him the pot and then dusted off a rock to sit on.

Bendy bounded to the creek. He banged the pot down right over the rocks, letting water flow in, before scooping the pot back up and sloshing it around again. He whistled, something bouncy and upbeat, that the Joxter was relatively certain he’d heard a thousand times before – but he didn’t entirely mind. It was a cheery sort of tune, and the Joxter joined in. If things were to be peaceful today, then he'd be amiss to bring the mood down over past troubles. 

Mid-tune, Bendy accidentally dropped the pot and it clanged loudly over the rocks. "Whoops!" He went scurrying after it, and it was then that a shrill voice interjected,

“Hey, can’t you two keep it down!”

The Joxter lifted his head to find a fat brown squirrel perched on a branch not far.

“Some people like to sleep, you know!” the squirrel chattered.

“Ah, it’s a talking one,” the Joxter remarked.

The squirrel flicked its tail in offense. “We all talk, you ignorant twat. Maybe some of us just don’t think _you’re_ worth talking to.”

“Wooow,” Bendy said, standing in the middle of the creek while the current sucked away ink from his shoes.

“A very rude one,” the Joxter declared.

“You’re the rude ones!” The squirrel jerked its head towards Bendy. “That cat’s making enough ruckus to wake the entire forest.”

“ _Shoot_.” While distracted, Bendy lost enough of his shoes to fall over into the water with a splash. He crawled out of the creek unhappily, dragging the pot behind him.

“You must be new here,” the Joxter replied. “Bendy and I have lived in this area for years, and no squirrel has ever pitched a fit before. I thought they all knew better.”

The squirrel sputtered. “Well I don’t think you’re so high and mighty, and you need to keep it down.”

“Bendy, bring my pot back, won’t you?”

Bendy shook off excess ink and trotted back.

“That’s right,” the squirrel said. “Enough of that clanging around.”

“What a jerk,” Bendy muttered to the Joxter, handing over the pot. “Real sorry the rabbit didn’t work out, but are ya still hungry?”

“Just what I was thinking,” replied the Joxter.

“What are you two whispering about?” the squirrel snapped. “Just get out of hy-aaah!”

The Joxter watched with amusement as Bendy went tearing after the squirrel. It was a brief, fast chase, with Bendy spending a lot more time as clawing rushing ink than he did in any defined form. In a mere few seconds the nearest trees were draped with dripping ink, and then there was a triumphant “Hah!” Bendy half leapt half fell out of the branches, landing with a wet splat before fully reforming. His fingers were wrapped around the squirrel tight enough to suffocate any words.

“Lovely,” the Joxter said.

The squirrel sank its teeth into Bendy’s finger, and the demon laughed. “Wow, you’re dumb.” Then, clutching the squirrel in one fist, he grabbed its head with the other and twisted until there was a series of cracks. The squirrel’s nose ended up pointing the opposite direction as the Protector-of-all-Small-Beasts intended.

The Joxter made a pleased mumbling noise. "Rudeness isn't tolerated here, silly squirrel."

The squirrel did not answer. It was not going to be rude again, that was for sure.

“Say Bendy, how would you like to learn how to prepare meat for a mumrik?”

“Dunno how often I will,” Bendy answered, “but I’m startin’ to think it’d be good to know, what with Happy bein’ useless.” He flicked the squirrel's head, and it bobbed on its broken neck, as if nodding along in agreement.

“He is useless, isn’t he?” 

“Oh, just the worst,” Bendy agreed. The Joxter stood and followed Bendy back towards the nest, while Bendy loosely swung the squirrel by the tail. “Bet he’s dumb enough to even forget how to breathe.”

“He would look nice choking and writhing, wouldn't he?”

Bendy cackled. “He sure does.”

“The perfect sort of time to use him,” the Joxter continued, “while his face turns a silly shade of red, then purple…”

Bendy didn’t reply.

“Isn’t that right?” the Joxter prompted.

“Yeah.”

Just like that, the mood had changed again. Just when the Joxter was starting to feel better. How inconvenient.

They re-entered the nest, upon which there was an immediate cry of excitement, and a green blur shot over.

Happy didn’t have time to reach Bendy before the demon transformed and met him halfway. The collision ended with Happy thudding to the snow, and Bendy, all bony limbs and sharp teeth, crouched over him licking his face.

“ _Bendy_ ,” Happy giggled, pushing at his head.

The Joxter picked up the dead squirrel and dusted the snow off it, watching with bemusement as Bendy playfully snapped at Happy’s flailing arms. Twice his teeth closed around Happy’s arms, and both times he was delicate as could be about not biting down. Even so, when the two detangled, there were new snags and small tears in Happy’s sleeves. It was a miracle Bendy never ripped Happy’s arms from his sockets.

“We were hardly gone an hour,” the Joxter griped.

“I think it’s funny how excited he gets,” Bendy had changed back, and hopped after the Joxter to the fire.

“What do you have there, papa?” asked Happy.

“A squirrel, dear. But it’s not for you.”

“Oh, no,” Happy shook his head furiously. “I don’t want to take your food. I’m full anyway.”

“Are you?”

“Bendy gave me an orange earlier. There’s a _lot_ of oranges.”

There was, now that the Joxter cared to notice. Scattered all over the clearing, half buried in snow. Perhaps Bendy and Happy had played more of their newfound game.

The Joxter gestured Bendy over.

“Every animal requires some preparation before eating. Squirrels are a bit more difficult than rabbits, but the principle is the same. We’ll remove the legs and head first, as we don't need those.” After taking off his gloves, the Joxter slide his knife out from under his coat, settled the squirrel on a flat rock, then did just that.

Bendy grabbed the amputated limbs and stuffed them all in his mouth. While he crunched through the bones, the Joxter demonstrated removing the skin, “first the shirt and then the pants,” he explained, a wily smile on his face. “That’s how it was taught to me.”

Bendy grabbed the bits of inside-out flesh and deposited them onto Happy’s head. “Shirt and pants, got it.”

Happy giggled away.

“You’ll have to practice,” the Joxter noted, “but perhaps in Spring, when I’ve got more energy to see you mutilate a dozen animals before you get it right.”

“Heeey.”

The Joxter then showed Bendy how to remove the organs and the tail. The organs Bendy elected to eat. The squirrel tail he wrapped his own tail around and fwipped around as a fluffy poof at the tip.

“Don’t tell me you’ll be holding that for a while," the Joxter said.

“It’s my new tail.”

“It’s pretty,” Happy volunteered.

“So whaddaya do next?”

The Joxter rinsed his paws and the squirrel meat before staking it on a spit over the fire. The fire itself he stoked, and added a few extra sticks to. “Now we wait." He gratefully put his gloves back on, and held them close to the flames to warm his icy fingertips. Bendy followed suit by sticking his hands into the fire, as he was fond of doing.

“That seemed pretty straightforward, Jox. Just you wait, I’ll be makin’ ya squirrels all the time.”

“Having more meat would be nice,” the Joxter admitted. “Especially in these spar- _hck!_ ” The Joxter twisted to the side and hacked past the itch in his throat.

“Ya all right there?”

“The smoke from the fire. Happy? Refill the canteen, won’t you, dear?” He forced out a few more wet coughs, aggravated that the sensation was lingering.

“Yes, papa!” Happy snagged the canteen with a look of great importance, and shot out of the clearing. The bits of squirrel skin on his head flew off into the snow.

“He’s going to trip and fall,” sighed the Joxter, and cleared his throat.

“S’long as he doesn’t drown himself,” Bendy happily swished his tail back and forth, wiggling the tip at each swish to better emphasize the new fluffy light brown addition.

“I pray he wouldn't be that incompetent."

"Oh I dunno Jox, ya should've seen him a couple days ago. Almost drowned in the lake."

"Isn't the lake frozen?"

"Well, it  _was_ ," Bendy agreed, "'An' I stuck Happy out in the middle of it. Boy, he was  _petrified._ All that cold water under him, and just a few thin layers of ice between him and it. Would ya believe he just broke down?"

"Easily. He's a mess, darling, you can't expect him to keep his head in those sorts of situations. Or ever, really."

"Lucky he had me t' look out for him," Bendy said with relish. "Silly Snufkin was cryin' his eyes out by the time I dragged him off the ice."

The Joxter clicked his tongue. "I suppose you had to go and drown him in ink to calm him down."

"Yup. Squeezed him 'till he couldn't breathe. Fixed him real fast."

"Happy makes no sense whatsoever, I swear."

"Nah, but he's pretty. 'Specially when he cries." 

Making a noise of assent, the Joxter adjusted the wooden spit to better position his squirrel. Then his fingers naturally settled between Bendy’s horns, and he scratched lightly. The demon wasn’t quite so cold now, close to the fire and all.

“I may have to take you up on your earlier offer,” the Joxter said. Talking about Happy crying- or any Snufkin, really - had a way of getting the Joxter worked up.

“Hmm?” 

The Joxter stopped petting, since Bendy often was immensely distracted by it. “For sex, my little devil.”

“Oh! Gotcha. Yup.” Sticking his tongue between his teeth, Bendy swung a leg over the Joxter’s hips and settled neatly into his lap. The demon’s weight was pleasant, and his tail grazed teasingly along the Joxter’s inner thighs. The Joxter tried not to focus on the squirrel’s tail still clung at the end of it.

Bendy wriggled his hands between the two of them to work open the button of the Joxter’s pants. After a few struggling seconds, the Joxter shooed his hands away. “Let me.”

The Joxter undid the fastening, and tugged himself free. He was half-hard already (anticipation often got him quickly), and he cooed in pleasure when Bendy wrapped his warm fingers around his length. His chin settled between Bendy’s horns as he gazed into the fire, stroking down the demon’s back. Yes, much as the Joxter enjoyed the rapturous intensity of raping and murdering Snufkins, there was a certain lazy coziness in getting off like this, too. Bendy was choosing to take it slow, teasing and pausing, teasing and pausing, but the Joxter breathed steadily, determined to enjoy drawing it out.

It was at this point that Happy came running back into the clearing. The winded Snufkin thumped the canteen down and hunched over double to catch his breath. He didn't look twice at Bendy and the Joxter, since he was very accustomed to their sexual acts being done in front of him. 

“Did you run the entire time?” the Joxter drawled, gazing at Happy with lidded eyes. He really was a pretty Snufkin, as far as Snufkins went. Though everyone looked quite a bit prettier when the Joxter was in the right mood, and it was easy to be in the right mood while Bendy kneaded ink-slick fingers over his dick. 

“Yes, papa. I didn’t want to leave you without water. And-“ a burble of a laugh rose, and Happy’s eyes flitted. “I got scared when I left.”

The Joxter made a soft, sympathetic noise, that frustratingly ended in a cough. “Poor thing. All by your lonesome in the wilderness?”

Happy nodded, expression frantic. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

“No, mmh." The Joxter's breath hitched. "A little softer." Then to Happy, "It’s much better when you’re looked after and taken care of, hmm?”

“Yes, papa.”

Bendy chuckled against the fabric of the Joxter’s shirt. His thumb teased the underside of the Joxter’s head, and that so very sensitive place had him twitching his hips up.

“Y’like to be kept, huh, Happy?” Bendy joined in, voice muffled.

Happy made a confused noise and sidled closer, right beside the two of them. 

“Ya like to be kept?” Bendy repeated, louder.

“Oh, yes. You take good care of me, Bendy. I’d die on my own. I need you.”

The demon let out a breathy sound; the Joxter cast Happy a mischievous look. “I think you’ve gone and got Bendy riled up too, dear.”

“Oh!” Happy looked startled. “I hope so. I want him to feel nice.”

“I think you do quite well at that.” The Joxter reached out to cradle Happy’s cheek. He did not notice, at first, Bendy going very very still on his lap. And then the Joxter was kissing Happy.

"Wait-" Bendy said, short and tight.

The Joxter nudged his hips up to signal Bendy to keep going, and tugging Happy closer, deepened the kiss.

" _Wait_!" It twisted into a half-scream. Something thudded hard against the Joxters chest like a drum, knocking the air straight from his lungs. At the very same moment, Happy was ripped out of his arms. When the Joxter's eyes shot wide, he saw only surging, undulating ink. Adrenaline hit.  _Get away get away NOW._  He choked. His limbs flailed. Ink solidified into massive razor-like teeth, inches from the Joxter's face; the snarling that followed was deep enough to rattle under his ribs.

For a full second, he could not breathe, and he was paralyzed in place. 

Then, blessedly, there was several feet between his face and Bendy's as the demon skittered backward. That is when the Joxter glimpsed Happy, laying crumpled beneath Bendy's monstrous form and looking terribly small.

“Bendy,” the Joxter wheezed through his clenched lungs; he meant to follow this up with more words, but none emerged.

Then Bendy backed up, tripped on Happy, and bolted into the woods.

The silence after was piercing, wrought with tension and relief at once. The Joxter bent double and coughed his lungs out. For several minutes, it was difficult to draw in air, until his heart rate and respiratory system finally settled.

That.

That had been. Unexpected.

The Joxter still wasn't sure exactly what had happened or why. He was lightheaded now, and small tremors moved through his bones. But he was not dead. He was not, in fact, seriously hurt either. Only startled. Yes. With numb paws, he tugged up his pants and buttoned them. Not quite up for continuing that. No. Perhaps later. He adjusted his cloak, cleared his throat. It was still a little difficult to breathe. Well. He looked about. Happy still had not gotten up: he was curled whimpering in the snow. 

Yes, that was important to tend to. 

“Happy? Happy, dear?” The Joxter crawled closer. “Happy, is everything all right?”

Happy’s wide eyes flicked to him. They were full of tears. “Why was he upset, papa?”

Ah, just worried about Bendy. Then the Joxter looked down. Happy was clutching just below his right wrist. That wrist was twisted the wrong way, and already swollen and purplish beneath Happy’s dark coloration.

“I landed on it wrong,” Happy said by way of explanation. “Papa, what’s wrong with Bendy?”

“We need to set that, dear.” Tending to Happy’s wounds was something familiar. The Joxter felt in great need of something familiar right now.

“I should go find him-“

"No," the Joxter snapped. "You will stay right here and let me fix that."

Happy whimpered, but obeyed. 

The Joxter found a few sturdy sticks to use as a splint, and then strips of cloth. As he hunched over Happy's wrist, his disorganized thoughts tried to find some grounding.

Firstly, he decided he was offended. That that had been inappropriate. Uncalled for. Another frustrating lurch in mood. 

But that information was not helpful. That information made him - well, not frightened, exactly. It made him _something_ , though, that he didn't want to be. Because random capricious behavior like that was without reason and outside of control, which meant he had no power to change it _._ But what was a Joxter to do? Leave the nest? He rather enjoyed his life here, all parts of it except for these moments. Why did Bendy have to behave this way - and after years of getting along!

Happy whimpered. "Shush," the Joxter barked, and deliberately tightened his grip on Happy's wrist until the Snufkin was crying all over again. "This was all your fault." He said it mostly to say it, because blaming Happy was a comforting thing to do, and things often were Happy's fault.

"I'm sorry," Happy whined. "I didn't mean to. I'm sorry, papa, I didn't want to make him upset."

"Well, you went and did it anyway, didn't you? Selfish Snufkin." Happy looked positively miserable, and the Joxter would have thoroughly enjoyed that if not for the fact his mood had been ruined.

Then he paused.

Bendy truly _had_ been just fine until Happy interfered. Had been cheerful as usual. And then suddenly  _not_ , almost as soon as the Joxter had kissed Happy. "It _is_ your fault," the Joxter said in surprise. Happy moaned in despair.

But then hold on. The Joxter thought back to Bendy's moodiness and to each time the demon had abruptly left the nest. Each time it related to Happy. To Happy catching the Joxter's attention, Happy being the needy whore he was and letting the Joxter screw him, Happy looking appealing and getting the Joxter excited. 

Ah.

It clicked, and the Joxter nearly laughed from the relief of it. Because it wasn't random at all. Bendy was possessive over Happy. Wanted him for himself. Perhaps it took the Joxter so long to realize because possessiveness was something rare in Joxters. They were a species blessedly inclined to sharing, which was part of what kept nests peaceful more so than not. But Bendy was not a Joxter, of course. He'd never shown any proclivity towards possessiveness before, but clearly, it was something he was very capable of. 

"It's entirely your fault," the Joxter repeated with amusement. 

"I'm sorry, 'msorry, 'msorry."

"Stop that whining, love. I'm sure I can fix things." The Joxter hurriedly tucked in the last bit of cloth. This was something best to discuss with Bendy, and preferably without Happy around. Preferably quickly, too, so he didn't have to worry about it anymore. "Now, stay put, Happy. I'll go get him back."

"I want to go too," Happy protested, scurrying after him.

“Don’t make me tie you up,” the Joxter warned.

“I think you should,” Happy replied sincerely.

“Hm?”

“You should tie me up, papa. Otherwise I’ll go looking for you and I’ll get lost and then I might never see you or Bendy again and-“

“Oh, dear.” Happy was hyperventilating. What a mess. It would be cruel not to comply with what he so clearly needed. The Joxter took a length of rope and bound Happy up to the very same tree that, years and years ago, Happy was first kept tied to.

“There you go,” he patted Happy’s head. “I’ll be right back.”

Next, to find Bendy. Fortunately, Bendy was the easiest of all creatures to track, easier even than Snufkins. His scent was littered all over the clearing and surrounding forests, but the Joxter had little difficulty selecting the trail that was freshest. 

It wasn't long before he found Bendy. The demon was small again, and sitting at the edge of a partly collapsed bridge. He was staring sullenly down at the thin sheen of ice below, his back to the Joxter.

“Hullo,” the Joxter greeted, trying and failing to not startle him.

Bendy turned. His expression was defeated and confused rather than angry; the Joxter deemed that a safe enough response, and settled himself beside Bendy on the bridge.

Before he could say a thing, Bendy blurted, “There’s somethin’ wrong with me, Jox.”

The Joxter blinked in surprise. “What?”

"I want t' kill you. Which, I mean-" Bendy laughed without any humor. "I kinda wanna kill everyone, 'cause  _wow_ does it feel nice, but  _this -_ it ain't a good feeling. I like how awful ya are, and all our adventures trackin' down Snufkins. Best fun I'd had in a while. But..." he trailed off. He was kneading his hands together. When he spoke next, his voice was lower, "when ya touch Happy, I forget about all that. I wanna tear ya apart limb from limb, and drag him under me, and-" words fell apart as he seethed through his teeth. 

The Joxter licked his lips and turned his eyes away from Bendy's hands, which were making motions much as if he wanted to strangle something. Perhaps he needed to fast forward this whole spiel, because Bendy was starting to get a bit melty. "You're possessive," he said gently. "You want Happy all to yourself."

At first, Bendy looked surprised. Then, intently, " _yes_. I want him to be _mine_. I want to play with him all the time, and I don't want _anyone_ else to touch him."

"Okay, dar-"

"I want t' murder anyone who tries," Bendy growled. "I want t' string 'em up in the trees and then screw Happy right in front of 'em and-"

"Bendy," the Joxter said sharply, and Bendy jumped. This was clearly something that had been developing for a bit. "Relax." He scooted closer, and trailed his gloved fingers up and down Bendy’s back. "This issue with Happy - it's the only reason you're upset with me, isn't it?"

"It's dumb," Bendy muttered. "I didn't used t' care."

"You have spent a lot of time with him this winter, playing your games and such."

"But we're _friends_. An' I know how much ya like him." Bendy said that last bit a little harsher.

"I like all Snufkins," allowed the Joxter. "And this particular one is already yours, Bendy. You feed him and keep him alive and such. If you’d rather I not-“ delicate seemed like the best route, “be intimate with him, then I need not.” It was a real pity. The Joxter dearly loved having a smiling, pliant Snufkin readily available at almost any hour of the day. But he rather liked having a stable friendship with Bendy more. 

Bendy, however, was silent.

The Joxter continued, “Happy will be yours, wholly and entirely. I won’t lay a finger on him. I won’t talk with him. I won’t even look at him, if you like.”

Bendy cracked a half smile. “C’mon Jox. I don’t mind if ya look at him, or talk to him.”

“Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Bendy shot him a furtive look. “Ya really don’t mind? Me uh, me claimin' him.”

“Not at all.”

“Then... no screwing him. No kissing him. No hurting him. All that's just for me.”

“Agreed.”

“No  _touchin'_ where he gets giggly."

"Touching only for wound care and the likes," the Joxter acknowledged.

Bendy gazed at the Joxter with intent black eyes. "He's mine."

"Yes, he's yours."

This seemed to satisfy the demon, at last. 

"Will you be marking him?" the Joxter asked. 

“Huh?”

The Joxter hummed softly. “Once, before you, I kept a little Snufkin of my own. Broke his legs in several places, just because they do get so energetic… Well, I grew rather fond of him, and carved my name into his skin.”

“Like signing a piece a’ art,” Bendy noted.

“If people are inclined to that sort of thing. Perhaps doing something like that will help you feel better.”

“Yeah, I like the sound’a that.”

“There, see? Everything works out nicely. If something bothers you darling, next time just let me know upfront.”

“Mostly I didn’t know what was botherin’ me, so I didn’t know what to say.”

The Joxter made a thoughtful noise, then said, “shall we go back? No doubt Happy will be excited to have you carve into him. I had to tie him up, you know. Oh, and you ought to know you did break his wrist, and it may take some months to heal.”

“Aw, shoot. I thought I felt somethin’ break," Bendy said, as he stood and stretched. 

“Snufkins are quite fragile.” Which reminded the Joxter that they were still running low on medical supplies… Well, he didn't want to tell Bendy  _no_ now, not after just sorting everything out. They'd make do with some boiled cloth, perhaps, and then he'd take a trip to the Moomin house later to raid for supplies.

 

  

 

They returned to the clearing, where Happy was straining in the ropes and being an overall wreck. The Joxter acquired his forgotten squirrel, which at this point was quite burnt but still edible. As he tore its cooked flesh from bone with his teeth, he watched Bendy approach Happy. 

The scene was at first very soft, Bendy caressing his cheek and throat and whispering something into his good ear. The Joxter wondered if he was informing Happy of his new singularly owned status, or the demon was simply telling Happy how pretty he looked, which was equally true. Whatever it was, Happy started smiling and nodded frantically through his tears. A very enthusiastic little Snufkin. 

Then the demon suddenly had quite a lot of extra arms, which he used to grab all over Happy and hold the Snufkin very, very still. 

With a single finger sharpened into a claw, he scoured letters into Happy's thigh, frighteningly deep:  _Bendy's Property._ Happy howled and jerked, but had no room whatsoever to escape, or to even disturb Bendy's writing - not with the ink encasing him and holding him prone. 

“It looks lovely,” remarked the Joxter.

How nice to know that, even if he couldn't play with Happy himself anymore, he and Bendy were still the best of friends.

Not to mention, the Joxter thought to himself, gazing on as Bendy crawled on top of Happy, he never forbade him from _watching_.


End file.
